Avium X
by x Bout as Stable as the Wind x
Summary: In the hunt for Avium X, a demon hybrid that will turn Earth into a battleground, angels have been assigned to humans, to help defend them against the threat. But this hastens the apocalypse when an angel blurs the lines of mortality with the feral prince of a savage kingdom, Peter Pan. "What's your name? That's a mouthful. How 'bout something more simple. Something like... Felix."
**Chapter 1: The Naming**

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"What's your name?"

His name, officially, was Felandormanaslaasyix.

When he met his human, a boy of two years with dirty blonde hair and dark green, impossibly deep, eyes, Felandormanaslaasyix changed to something much more mortal sounding: Felix.

Of course, this human hadn't actually changed his angel name until he was old enough to talk, and comprehend, and understand. That was when the boy, Peter, first heard his angel's name for the first time. His brow had furrowed, and a look quite near utter disgust appeared on his face. "Well that's a mouthful," he'd stated, crossing his small arms and looking at the being with an attitude of reprimand and displeasure that belonged on someone five times his age.

He, in response to that, had shrugged simply, sitting cross-legged on the prince's desk while the prince himself sat on the edge of his bed. When Peter's impossibly deep stare demanded for a verbal response, the angel had sighed, and shaken his head. "It's easier to pronounce in my native tongue," he'd said, in a low tone that he used almost always when he spoke. He did not enjoy speaking much. There were few that he thought it **_worth_** speaking too. Though Peter was different. And not only because he was his human.

"Show me, then," Peter had demanded; already superior. "I want to hear it: your native tongue."

That request, unlike so many that he usually obliged, the angel refused. Upon Peter's protesting, Felix had told him that for one of the angelic host to reveal anything of their true forms, their language, or even their wings, was forbidden. Peter, of course, had demanded why. He, in turn, had replied with another shrug.

"How am I supposed to call you and talk to you then, if I can't even pronounce your bloody name?" Peter had spat, the child already fuming at being denied something that had now seized all parts of his ravenous curiosity.

He had answered that Peter could call him whatever he wished; he would be able to tell if he was being called with his senses, a part of his vast abilities.

This seemed to quench some of the fiery anger; soon the human boy was grinning. He got to name this secret companion of his, whatever he wanted! At the time, it seemed like this angel was the pet that he was always denied by the inebriated king of a father downstairs, in the throne hall. However, this was not strange to any angel; humans weren't expected to pronounce the words of the host's language. For Peter to choose what he would call his guardian was a tradition, really, known as the Naming.

"How 'bout something more simple," Peter had mused aloud, short legs swinging back and forth as he thought deeply. He looked upon his companion another time, taking in the tall, lanky body, and the wild mane of blonde hair, thick but combed back neatly. The angel wore clothing appropriate for the medieval kingdom his human resided in: knee-high leather boots, simple black trousers, and a simple gray long-sleeve shirt. This was all covered by a thick brown cloak that reached the angel's knees. He was not as old as Peter would expect an angel to be, he'd thought. In physical appearance, he seemed seventeen, or twenty.

After several more minutes of thought, Peter's grin had widened, and he'd snapped his fingers in a brilliant show of _I've got it_. "Something like… Felix," he announced proudly, nodding his head. The angel, Felix, felt a smile of amusement tug at the corners of his lips at the boy's confidence in his choice.

"Felix?" he asked, voice still low, unchanged even with the entertainment he found in his human's actions. "Why Felix?"

The ten-year-old's deep mind thought had already ended its philosophical studies and forgotten them for the time being, so that Peter could only answer with his own shrug. "I dunno."

Felix hadn't really needed to know; Felix, obviously, was a shortened version of his own name. He was lucky, in the aspect that his human was an intelligent one – there was an angel in the host that had been dubbed 'Cubby' a few decades ago, and no one let him forget it. "Alright," he had stated. "Felix it is. I'm Felix."

"I know that, I just **_said_** that," Peter had grumbled, stifling a yawn as his eyes started to grow heavy. Upon seeing this, Felix had looked over his shoulder out the window, where the moon was already high in the sky. Nodding to himself, he'd unfolded his long legs from beneath him and crossed the room, pulling back the fur blankets on the rickety old mattress, and placing a hand on the child's forehead. "Thank you, Peter, for my name," he'd stated – a custom. "Now sleep."

A pulse of warmth and serenity and soothing lulls had come from the angel's fingers and Peter's eyes closed completely as he swayed; Felix had easily caught him, and eased him back until he was lying down entirely. The blankets covered the small form, and once his charge was asleep fully, Felix had moved back to the desk against the windowsill, and returned to his perch. This time, though, he'd faced outside, a breeze blowing through the open shutters and sending the neatly combed blonde locks scattered into an unruly mane around the angel's face. He hadn't minded; he disliked the properness of his earlier style anyways.

It hadn't been the kingdom he'd expected when first arriving, but by then, he'd been used to it; the decimated but sturdy walls. The moldy but sturdy castle and its surrounding buildings. The gruff, rude, nearly-savage-sometimes residents, but loyal to their ogre of a king. Peter would fix it, Felix knew. Looking upon the child, he'd just known. When Peter became king, he'd make things in this unfortunate kingdom right again.

The angel had leaned back, closing his eyes as he decided to sleep out of a wanting to, not a need. He'd rested on his side on the desk, facing the window, and descended smoothly into slumber with the smile still twitching on his lips, not quite forming, not disappearing.

His name was now Felix.

Seven years later, they had another Naming.

Peter had been ranting and raging once more, a habit of his, as the thin but strong sixteen-year-old paced the same bedroom, surrounded by the same walls. And Felix had made the rash mistake of trying to calm the youth by using his full name, including his **_last_** name, and that had been what pushed the teen over the edge.

"Don't **_ever_** call me that," Peter spat with vehemence, voice dipping into that low growl that gave the wild, already-unruly boy an almost feral appearance. Felix lifted his hands in surrender but the damage was already done; the youth stalked over until his face was inches away from the angel's, twisted into an indignant scowl. " ** _EVER_**."

Felix watched his human calmly for a few moments, before licking his lips calmly and unfolding his legs, crossing his ankles that hung off the edge of the desk. "Well," he replied smoothly, voice and tone never having changed over the years. "Merely _Peter_ didn't seem like it would do the job."

Peter scoffed, taking a step back. "Well, I **_forbid_** you from using it. Forbid." He enunciated the word, and Felix easily knew why. The human's curiosity in the native angelic tongue, and the wings his angel kept hidden, never showing once, had never died. If anything, at the moment, watching Peter try to get back at him by the banning of his father's name, amused Felix, and Peter could tell. It only fueled his anger, until the teen walked over to his bed and dropped down, glaring at the ceiling with a clenched jaw in an almost childish pout. It was enough to push Felix into a short, second-long burst of laughter, before he cut it off in repentance when Peter's withering glower snapped to him.

"Well," Felix piped up after giving Peter another minute to cool off. "Why don't you simply choose another name?"

Of course, still infuriated, Peter merely crossed his arms over his chest and refused to say more.

Apparently, Felix translated the stone silence to _why don't you go ahead and choose one for me_ , so the angel leaned back and closed his eyes, going through the words of the angelic tongue, and then the older history from Earth. After several minutes, this contemplation caught Peter's attention and the teen sat back up, arms still crossed, as he looked upon the angel with something near a wolfish-growl, and a child's pout. "What are you doing?" he snapped.

Felix's lips twitched, but he knew better than to smile just yet. "Thinking."

"Of **_what_**?"

"The god of youth."

Peter didn't enjoy riddles; not ones that didn't come from his mind, anyways. His eyes narrowed, still brilliant emerald and intense, as he snorted. "The what?"

"The god of youth." Felix's blue eyes slid open, and a bare smile. Just slightly visible. "He's the idol of the nymphs, and he lives in the woodlands, rampant and free. He was one of the subjects, amongst others, in the books Maiden reads to you for lessons."

Peter rolled his eyes, crossing the room and dropping down so he was sitting on the desk beside Felix. "You know I don't pay attention to those things," he stated in a snappish tone. A beat of silence followed. "What's this god's name then?"

Felix turned to him, still with the amused smile-not-quite-a-smile. "Pan."

A pause. "Pan? What kind of name is Pan?" Always the critic.

"A legend made of nothing but stories," said the angel with a shrug; he nudged the boy with a shoulder. "But **_Peter Pan_** …."

Peter pursed his lips, and leaned back against the windowsill; Felix shifted, and moved to do the same on the other side, so the two were on the desk, against the window, facing each other. Peter's gaze had moved outside, to the wild forest just outside the castle walls, where the strangest of beasts and creatures romped in the night, the same creatures Peter himself would wander about with when he snuck out of the castle, Felix always by his side. After a moment, he shifted, the majority of his anger slipped away as he mused the new name option aloud in a thoughtful murmur, impossibly deep green eyes flashing with consideration.

"Peter Pan…"

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 **A/N: this was originally supposed to be a role play thread idea and decided to morph it into a fanfiction (the title is also my Tumblr username, _so_ creative). this is highly au, non-slash, rated m for violence and elements that might come later and just something i came up with in less than an hour so REVIEWS WOULD BE AMAZINGLY HELPFUL AND APPRECIATED. that is all. eva out. ;)**


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